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He was now occupied in cutting up some cake tobacco to fill his pipe. "Beautiful tobacco that, Mr. Robson," said Begmand. "Take a bit," answered Tom, good naturedly. "Thanks, Mr. Robson," said the old man, overjoyed, as he took out his pipe, the stem of which was not more than half an inch long, while the whole was as black as everything else which belonged to Anders.
Up to that day he had conversed entirely through the medium of Anders, but as that useful man was now in Alf's boat, the Captain was left to his own resources, and got on much better than he had expected. Chingatok turned his eyes from the horizon on which they had been fixed, and looked dreamily at the Captain when asked what he was thinking about.
So, as they were singing the end of the first verse, one fell down, who was carrying the head of the bier, and the others looked back, and they saw that the cloth had fallen off, and the eyes of Anders Bjornsen were looking up, because there was nothing to close over them. And this they could not bear.
"Don't suppose that I've come to make a fuss of you, you crafty old hag!" stormed Anders Olsen in his thin cracked voice. "No, I've come to fetch you, I have, and that at once. So you'd better come!" seizing her by the arm. Maren wrenched herself out of his grasp. "What's wrong with you?" asked she, staring at him in amazement. "Wrong with me? you dare to ask that, you old witch, you.
Nils asked, dropping down on the bench behind the kitchen stove. "One of your Cousin Henrik's." "How long has Cousin Henrik been dead?" "Six years. There are two boys. One stays with Peter and one with Anders. Olaf is their guardeen." There was a clatter of pails on the porch, and a tall, lanky boy peered wonderingly in through the screen door.
In an instant Anders had both hands on his shoulders from behind, set his feet against his back, and sent him rolling over the grass. It all happened without a pause, and Gustav himself gave impetus to his course, rolling along in jolts like an uneven ball.
All the time the thoughts of both were directed toward getting out their knives, and Anders, who had now fully recovered his senses, remembered distinctly that he had not got his. "Ah!" he said aloud. "What a fool I am!" "You're whining, are you?" said Gustav, bending his face him. "Do you want to ask for mercy?"
That youth did indeed afford a bright example of rapt enthusiasm just then, for, standing a little apart by himself, he gazed at the scene with flushed face, open mouth, and glittering eyes, in speechless delight. "Ask Chingatok if he ever saw this range before," said the Captain to Anders, on recovering from his first feeling of surprise.
Marianne took a short cut through the ship-yard, where the carpenters were busy dividing the shavings and putting them into sacks. She found her grandfather, who had finished his work in the pitch-house, and they set off homewards together. Anders Begmand lived in the last of the little red-painted cottages which lay below the steep slope on the western side of the bay of Sandsgaard.
First it was a friendly invitation to a coffee-punch in the inn; but each time the friendliness became scantier, until at last the window was let down with a bang, and out sped some brief but expressive remarks about both driver and horses, which Anders, at all events, could not have cared to hear.
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